


What Winter's Song Brings

by Nobodyhasblindedme



Series: London werelings...in London [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, NOT OMEGAVERSE, Other, Phan Drabble, Queerplatonic Relationships, Were-Creatures, don't know what to tag, they is wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9872786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nobodyhasblindedme/pseuds/Nobodyhasblindedme
Summary: Their kind was ruled by the seasons. Spring and summer belonged to battling for the last soda in the fridge and hiding from the insects that like to fly into the (necessary) open windows.Fall and winter belonged to another life entirely.--Phil, Dan, Chris and Pj are werelings enjoying the cold season as wolf-y kids do.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooooo I have a lot of brainchildren and they like to breed plot bunnies. I literally banged this out in like two days pls he lp it's a porblemmmmm. Anyway. I ejoy the thought of werewolves...but not in the usual, 'tranform into bloodthirsty monster under the full moon' werewolves. 
> 
> I like animal-wolf werewolves. And Queerplatonic phan, as I feel it's closest to their irl relationship at this point. (I'm not claiming to say that they are anything but really good friends irl, however.) As you read in the tags, NOT omegaverse, though I like it. It just didn't fit the story. 
> 
> Thank you!!

Phil loved the wintertime, and all that came with it - the cold that was so much at times it bit at your skin as terribly as a real bite with teeth, the nights spent with your nose buried in your own (or a pack mate's) fluffy tail and the bone-deep contentedness of being tucked in close to your den mates during those nights. The Yule howls and the Solstice nights under the wolf moon when, though certain others in his little pack would enjoy denying it to their dying breath, Phil was sure, so sure, there was something magical in the icy air. Something that tied him even tighter to his fur and put more force in his howl-song.

There was just...the one little thing he supposed he both never accounted for every year and would be (and was) mocked mercilessly for.

Phil didn't care for the snow. Not really.

It was always nice to see for the first few weeks of winter, when he and his pack were beginning to bed down for the winter properly, a pretty sight floating down in delicate little flakes to sneeze off of his inky muzzle and stood out like dozens of stars against he and Dan's dark coats. Blanketing the world with a blissful _silence_ , a deep sigh of the Mother allowing herself to sleep for a while.

But it also nipped at his pawpads and ears and nose, and bunched up under his belly when he ran and clung to his fur in frozen solid clumps. Even coming in from the cold did little to help, the nuisance turning from simply cold to _wet_ when it melted.

Being a wereling at the very least came with the advantage of wet dog smell just...smelling like you and your mates.

A good thing too, considering how sensitive their noses were even in human form, let alone their animal bodies. And there was another merit towards winter - it dampened the normally nearly overwhelming scents and information input of the woods and high moors. Brought up in sharp relief to that then, the scents of prey beasts like hares and squirrels and grouse that hid so cleverly amongst the scrub grass and between the trees.

Phil liked hunting, and as gentle as he was with his pack and others when he stood tall on two legs, the thrill of running down a deer with Dan at his side and Chris and PJ somewhere heading it off was enough to keep him coming back to this place every winter.

It's what he happened to be waiting for at the moment, actually. His dark, crow-feather coat stood starkly against the low grey sky as he waited perched on a large rock looking over the vale. It hadn't quite started to snow, Phil's bright eyes glancing up to track the piddly tiny ice particles that had been spotting for about an hour now as the temperatures continued to drop. He was waiting for the signal from PJ. Phil sighed and lay down, shivering slightly as the cold of the boulder seeped into his underbelly fur. He was so bad at waiting...Dan too, if he was being honest. The two of them often put more energy chasing down rabbits pheasants then the reward returned, but it made Chris and PJ happy when the two of them weren't dancing on their paws for the chance to get out and _run_.

Phil blinked and his ear swiveled around to catch the sound of approaching paws. There was an equally large body dropping next to his as Dan groaned low in his throat. Phil cocked his head at him, glancing back into the far dreary forest where he'd figure the other ought to be. The chocolate brown wereling only grumbled in response, leaning his head on his paws snuffling sulkily into his own fur. Ah...Chris had finally gotten tired enough of Dan's energy and sent him to work with Phil in the final leg of the hunt, had he? Phil yawned in amusement, showing off long white teeth with a wag of his tail and a very doggy grin. Dan only narrowed his lupine eyes and growled without malice, leaning up to play-bite at Phil's neck. Well, it was't his fault Dan's attention span was only a whisker's width longer than his!

They didn't have much time to contemplate and sass each other in that unique, wordless language of the wolf, because not a second later, twin howls had gone up from behind, echoing across the hills. He and Dan were stood in an instant, the cold suddenly hardly seeming to matter as the werelings turned their attention to the treeline of the far woods, thoughts turning animal as they waited.

This was the part of the hunt that was most difficult to be a part of, Phil knew. The last stretch, when the prey had been flushed out of hiding and your pack's hard work either resulted in dinner for, or hungry bellies and exhausted limbs for all. And it wasn't like they had the rest of the day to satisfy themselves with smaller game should the big catch fail either - the sun was already setting behind slate grey clouds and if all went well, they'd only have enough time to make the kill and drag it back closer to their dens.

Phil was pretty sure Pizza Hut didn't deliver to the middle of nowhere. (Or to wolves.)

Dan and Phil poised like enormous eagles on their rock, heads low as they tensed, Dan's sensitive ears pricking up as the frantic tattoo of hoofbeats across frozen ground drew closer, Phil's nose catching PJ and Chris's scents on the slight wind, along with freshly spilled blood. Doe blood.

Phil grinned again, but in this body it was neither a comforting sight, nor a gentle one. He was hungry, as was Dan and the rest, and it was up to them to make the kill.

He couldn't be sure who lept first - himself, already full to bursting with energy waiting to be utilized, Dan, who'd been up and moving long before him with only a moment's rest and a drive to hunt possibly stronger than Phil's own, or the deer that came bursting out of the underbrush with the rest their pack nipping at it's heels. All three of them at once, Phil supposed. It didn't really matter any way you spun it - the events fell into place as they always did, perfectly.

The deer was swift, bounding away from it's diligent pursuit with eyes wide and breath huffing out in wheezes. Oh, they'd been clever, their pack mates. This one was already under the weather, and was looking tired even as it ran for it's life. The illness would not harm the werelings - only make this faster for all parties involved. Dan and Phil were relegated to they position, actually, for a number of reasons, not just the fact they were wild with energy and joy and playfulness, too much so for the stalking of herds. The same as their (sometimes unfortunate) two legged forms, Dan and Phil retained their....frankly enormous sizes in animal form. Long legs, the best for reaching the speeds necessary in running in the open, large bodies capable of battling the strength of fighting prey with their own weight.

Phil and Dan often hunted together, and if their own intrinsic idiocy didn't trip them up, (as it so often seemed to do no matter the boy's form) they were the deadliest things on these moors.

They took off in unison, claws digging into the hard ground and propelling them at the oncoming deer with the force of two mid-sized fuzzy explosions. Phil took to one side, Dan to the other, not needing a word to communicate what needed done. The deer coughed and bleated, eyes rolling at the sudden movement from where they'd been hidden against the dark rocks, and it tried to change direction - but their pack mates were still there, herding it away from the safety of the woods and out into the open. The deer was fast and panicked, but Dan and Phil were pacing it well, keeping it from bolting right, back towards he trees. But that way belied PJ and Chris rather then escape, giving it little options. Thanks to this little lapse in judgement on the deer's part, Dan and Phil were now closer, and that was all they needed.

It tried to wheel away again, but with the dark brown wolf to one side and the black one to the other, escape was nigh impossible. Dan struck first as it attempted to make a bid for freedom by leaping over their heads and costing them more energy wasted in chase. His friend's teeth caught the thin leg as it raised and the beast stumbled, giving the others plenty of time to move in as fast as possible.

It was Phil who made the kill in the end, however.

As a human...Phil found very little joy in harming, much less _killing_ anything. Even the moths that Dan found so terrifying and hilariously demanded Phil take care of while he grimaced in the corner of the room he usually tried to capture and release rather then allow any hurt to come to them. The both of them were of similar minds in that regard. Moths, spiders, that one time with the freaking giant praying mantis. As humans they were docile, respectful of nature and where they stood with it.

As they were now...Dan supposed, the few times they dared talk about it even in the privacy and safety of their own apartment , that it was just...sort of the nature of things. When they were human they had an additional wolf-y part of their brains that shared the space. When they were wolves..the human part was the guest, and often took a backseat to lots of things human Dan and Phil would wrinkle their noses at.

The respect for nature still stood, firm and engrained in their personalities as it was. But that respect came now with acknowledgment of certain necessary drives. And hungers.

Sometimes Phil allows a little more of himself to slip away during these moments, as his jaws grab up the delicate neck of the deer and press down with bone-rending force. It's not that he finds it evil or that he cannot bear to see himself partaking in such...well. Gore. Rather, it's more, again, like the human part doesn't necessarily have to be there as his tail wags in absolute victory, and his pack mates yip and growl back at him. Human Phil doesn't need the feel of companionship like this, on such a base, animal level, though he enjoys it as much as any of them do. Dan always said he was the sort to _feel_ things, rather then observe them like a scientist. And wolf Phil feels a lot of things.

The bond of pack, the happiness spread between them at the elation of a successful kill, the nonverbal, inarticulate praise Phil receives with nose-nudges and playful nips for getting it, the lovely feel of Dan's fur running against his as they begin the long drag back towards their winter homes, knowing the wolf he's known and wanted to see happy for all these years is indeed pleased and will be most open to cuddling tonight with the pleasure of a full belly to soften his normally cutting sarcastic edge, even in animal form.

Yes, Phil thinks now. He really did love the wintertime. The holidays, the fun, even the wet, clingy, too-much-at-times snow.

As long as he had his little pack, and Dan, to share it all with.


End file.
